Gifts
by Victoria to Worthing
Summary: A secret admirer story. Quirky, but cute! Shannon starts getting mysterious gifts.


It all started because of a smile.

He had never seen Shannon smile much. She was more of the pouting type, and it kind of suited her. Her big pink lips seemed made for pouting. Maybe made for a few other things, too… but he tried not to think about that. What's the point in thinking about what you can't have?

He couldn't resist the smile, though.

It was just a brief flash of white teeth, a moment when her eyes crinkled up, and her tanned cheeks were pink, and he suddenly saw how young she was. She was laughing at her brother—he had been trying to help people move things from the beach to the caves and had tripped over something. He landed flat on his face in the sand, practically a cartoon pratfall, and she had burst out laughing. Laughing at something kind of mean, true, but it was such an innocent giggling sound, such a real grin. He had never seen her like that before.

He wanted to see it again.

He tried talking to her, but he got sarcastic remarks most of the time. Sometimes a sardonic smirk, or a discouraged little half-smile, but never that pretty beam. Never a real laugh. He wasn't exactly Robin Williams. He shouldn't have expected that he could make her crack up. He also wasn't Johnny Depp, so he couldn't have expected her to give him a real smile for the sake of his charm. She chuckled once when he compared Charlie to an oompa-loompa, but then she asked him why he was over here talking to her, anyway.

"Just bored, I guess," he said, trying to sound cool.

"Wow, flattering. Well, I've got a magazine to read, so why don't you go entertain yourself somewhere else?"

"You've been reading that same one for, like, three days," he blurted out, then felt stupid.

"OK, let me rephrase that. I'm busy, so go stalk someone else."

"Whatever," he said, his voice full of practiced apathy, shrugging and rolling his eyes.

So much for that course of action, he thought.

But the next day, as he walked by on the way to talk to Rose, she beckoned him over. (No way she would ever go to him—she stayed in her spot, a princess on a throne, and called her humble subjects if she wanted them.)

"Yeah, what is it?" he asked, trying to sound grumpy.

"Can I listen to your CD player?" She was smiling, a little one, persuasive and a bit flirtatious. He'd seen that one before, but never for him. That was because she had never wanted anything of his before, he guessed.

"I dunno. I'm getting low on batteries."

"Come on. Just a little? I'm about to go drown myself with boredom."

"Sounds pretty entertaining to watch."

She raised her eyebrows, surprised that Hurley of the perpetual good humor would crack such a mean joke. "Wow, fine, forget I asked. Don't you have something to go eat?"

"Fat joke. Very original, dude." He began to lumber off.

"Don't call me dude. I'm a girl."

"Oh believe me, I know that." Oops. That sounded like he had been checking her out. Probably because he had. He continued his getaway attempt.

"C'mon Hurley, let me just hear one song?" Damn her coercing voice. It could probably make him roll over and beg. He peeked at her over his shoulder, and she gave him a fake smile, but still a bigger one than before. He sighed and went off to retrieve the CD player.

She managed to talk him into almost a whole CD's worth of listening because she shared the headphones with him, which let him smell her sweet girl smell and get a close-up view of all the things he so uselessly admired.

After that, he decided to avoid her. She was clearly just using him to keep from getting bored, or to do favors for her. That's just what she _did_. He shouldn't be lured in like that when he knew perfectly well what was going on.

Then, one day, he found some fruit. Gorgeous purple fruit of some kind that he hadn't had before, but Sun said that it was safe to eat, and he loved it once he took a bite. He gave some to his friends, but not to Shannon. She would just roll her eyes at him, or say something mean, or try to flirt with him until he went and hunted her a boar or something. He told himself that it was pointless.

But then, when she fell asleep sunbathing, he sneaked up next to her. (Sure, he was big, but it was easy to sneak on sand.) He carefully set three fruits on a little cushion of leaves next to her hand, then sneaked off. Now at least she wouldn't know who her pathetic slave was. He wouldn't have to watch her dredge up fake wiles to use on him. No one but him would know how much he still wanted to see her smile for him.

And then it happened.

He was sitting far away, talking to other people, being as inconspicuous as possible, but he watched stealthily over Charlie's shoulder as he saw her stir, stretch, and sit up. (She was wearing the blue bikini that made his jaw drop every time he saw it, but he attempted to ignore that.) She saw the little pile of fruit and looked confused, then poked at one of the fruits as though it might be a trap. Then, cautiously, she picked it up, and examined it. She looked back at the fruit, seeing the carefully arranged leaves and the symmetrical arrangement, and she smiled. For a moment, a real, surprised, delighted smile. It practically knocked him over with its beauty.

From then on, he still ignored her, but he started leaving her presents. Sometimes while she napped, but more often during the few times a day she left her little circle of comfort on the beach. He left her kiwis and mangos, then decided that he needed to move on from fruit. He bartered a pink lipgloss from Sawyer, who mocked him and called him "Dr. Frank-N-Furter" because he wouldn't reveal who he wanted it for. When Shannon saw the lipgloss, she grinned for a solid minute, then put it on and made Boone check her lips to make sure that it was in the lines. (She had put it on right without using a mirror. It was kind of an impressive skill. Hurley wondered if she could put her lipstick on with her cleavage, like Molly Ringwald in _The Breakfast Club_, but that was another one of those thoughts that he was better off ignoring.)

The best thing he got was from Kate, surprisingly. He saw her looking through her bag of clothes that she had found on the plane. She had mostly tank tops and T-shirts, practical clothes, but then she pulled out a flowery shirt made of some kind of flowy material. She looked at it for a minute, then pressed it to her face as though smelling it. Then, sighing, she threw it into the jungle. It must have reminded her of something bad.

Later, when Kate had gone off to flirt with Sawyer as usual, he went and picked the shirt up. He smelled it, like she had. It still smelled like perfume and laundry soap—smells of civilization. Smells of a house that was probably deserted now. It was pale yellow, with little tulips on it. He could imagine it perfectly on Shannon, yellow like her hair, light against her tan skin.

He was so eager to give this present that he decided to sneak up on her when she took her afternoon nap. It was risky, but he was excited. This was his best present, and he had decided that it would be the last. He was having a hard time finding things to give her, and really, what was the point? Well, he knew the point. To make her happy. But she didn't care if he was happy, and she would probably mock him endlessly if she knew the gifts had been from him. He was glad that he had kept it secret so far. He hoped she never found out.

He waited until no one was nearby and she was asleep, this time in a pink bikini. He wondered how she didn't look like a human prune from all the sun exposure. He tip-toed over to her, knelt, and set the shirt, neatly folded, onto the sand next to her towel. He lingered for a moment. This might be the closest he would ever be to her from now on.

Then, quick as a mouse trap, Shannon's hand reached out and grabbed his wrist. She popped up from the sand like a jack-in-the-box and yanked her sunglasses off. "Ha! I knew it!"

"Wh-what?" Hurley stammered, not so much embarrassed as still in shock, wondering if he would have an early on-set heart attack.

"I knew it was you giving me stuff. You're so predictable." She hadn't let go of his wrist, and she was grinning, a grin he had never seen before, cocky and a little bit evil and unfortunately adorable.

"How?" He was still panting a little from the shock.

"You're the only guy on this island dumb enough to do that many nice things for me and not get any credit for it. So I figured it was either a closet lesbian or you."

"Gee. Thanks." He finally liberated his wrist from her surprisingly strong fingers. "Well… so, yeah. It was me. Sorry."

She laughed. "Sorry?"

"That it wasn't some hot guy. Or lesbian. But look." Her glee was making kind of mad, and anger always helped him talk a little more. "I didn't _want_ credit. I know you don't like me, and I didn't want you feeling like you owed me. It's just…you're cute, and I like your smile, and I thought it would be fun. Or something. Something stupid like that. And I didn't want you to think I was your stupid errand boy."

Her smile was little and thoughtful now. "It's not that bad being my errand boy. It's even better being my helpless puppy. Lots of petting involved." She had raised her eyebrows and lowered her voice seductively, which was a moment that would probably stick with Hurley for a long time, but he didn't want her playing her old game with him.

"Stop. You don't have to pretend to flirt with me. It's OK. I'm just gonna go, OK? Have fun with your…stuff." He wished he could have come up with a snappy closing line, but he was way too bummed. He walked off, refusing to look back, even when Shannon called his name.

He avoided her like the plague for the next few days. He kept as busy as a person really could on a desert island. He didn't tell anyone about what had happened, but Sawyer saw Shannon with the pink lipstick and made fun of him whenever he passed by.

"Hey, _gordo_, going to see Sticks?"

"Want anything else to give Blondie?"

"So what did she give you for the lipstick, huh?"

Hurley ignored him at first, then resorted to telling him to shut up, finally just avoiding his area of the beach altogether, which kind of cut down on his options for the whole "keeping busy" thing.

He finally decided to go for a walk in the jungle. Not too deep into the jungle, not too close to monster territory or crazy French women or anything like that, but deep enough that no one would bother him. He wanted to walk alone and brood like an angsty teenager. That was always fun.

His cloud of depression was broken by a moment of sheer terror as someone popped out from behind a tree and grabbed his arm. He yelled like an idiot and began to pull away—then he saw that it was Shannon, cackling like a witch.

"What the hell? Is freaking me out your new pastime or something?" he gasped.

"No. It should be, though. That was fun. I don't see it getting old anytime soon."

"Great. Just great." He tried to leave again, but she yanked his wrist, and he found himself, surprisingly, pressed right up against her. "What are you doing?"

"I just wanted to…" Her words trailed off as she leaned forward and kissed him. A real kiss, not the tentative peck that screamed "Do-I-really-want-to-do-this?" that he got from most girls. It was a popular girl kiss, the kind so good that it must come from practice, the kind that every guy dreams of, and most guys never get.

He pulled back first.

"Why are you doing that? I mean, for real, why? Is that my credit or something? 'Cause if it is, well… damn, I didn't expect that, but I don't want you feeling sorry for me. Or making fun of me." He was caught between being turned on and pissed off, so his words came out in a strangled rush.

"It's not credit. It's a gift." She was smiling, a new and secret smile, and he decided that he didn't care why or how, he was just going to kiss her while he could. The next kiss was longer, slow and smooth, with her hands on his shoulders, fingers clenched in his T-shirt. His arms were around her and she leaned against him loosely, like he was the one holding them both up.

He pulled back when he felt like he was about to run out of breath… OK, to be honest, long after he had run out of breath, but he hadn't wanted to stop. Her eyes were still closed, her mouth slightly open, and he smiled as he saw that she was wearing the pink lipgloss (which was now probably all over his lips, too) and the yellow shirt.

Then her mouth snapped shut, her eyes popped open, and she became typical Shannon again. "You tell anyone about this and I will _kill_ you." He gave a startled laugh at her sudden mood change, and she tugged on the handful of shirt she still held. "You think I'm kidding, but I'm not. Not even Charlie. Especially not Charlie. Don't even _think_ about it."

"OK, fine, sure. Calm down." He stroked her hair and pressed her closer comfortingly, silently marveling at the way his hand almost spanned her narrow back.

"I'm calm. God." She sighed, laid her head against his shoulder, and relaxed against him again. "You know, people think I'm this big bitch." She paused. "Well, that or a slut. I mean, maybe it's true. But I miss things like this so much."

"Things like what?" He spoke softly, almost scared to move, like he would break a spell.

"Feeling safe."

"Oh. Yeah." He laid his cheek against her hair.

After a moment she slid out of his arms. "I guess I should be going. Boone's probably thinking that a polar bear attacked me."

"OK, cool." He was trying to be nonchalant, but her snicker showed him that it didn't work.

"Remember what I said."

"That you miss me holding you?"

"No! The part about me killing you."

"Oh. That. Yeah."

She was edging away from him, but she suddenly turned and ran back, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. She whispered in his ear. "Bye. Don't tell or you're dead." She leapt away before he could respond and ran back toward the beach.

Hurley decided to stay in the jungle for a few minutes to wrap his mind around what had just happened. Anyway, if he went back to camp, someone would surely ask what he looked so happy about.

He wouldn't tell, but he wouldn't forget.

Maybe he would go see her tomorrow, no secrets, no gifts. To see if that would be enough.

He thought about her limp in his arms, her lips on his, and he felt the devilish grin she wore spread across his own face.

He'd made her smile, all right.


End file.
